


Long Distance

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Depressed Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Pining Castiel, Pining Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 13:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They might be miles apart, but Dean knows what Cas needs.And maybe he needs it too.





	Long Distance

Dean’s just stepped out of the shower, towel held loose around his waist, when the phone goes.

He picks it up, and slides his thumb across the screen to answer.

“Hey.”

“Dean.”

Dean frowns at how tired the angel sounds. “You okay? Something happen?”

He can hear more than exhaustion in Cas’s voice now; there’s frustration, and the thin edge of temper that Dean knows isn’t for him, but for the angel himself.

“I think he knew,” Cas says. “When I got there, the entire coven had been slaughtered. He was ahead of me _again_.”

“Easy,” Dean says. He hates that the only comfort he can offer Cas right now is from the other end of the phone. He hates that Cas is out there, alone, looking for clues on Nick so they can figure out what the bastard’s up to, and how to find him and stop him.

He hates that Cas might catch up to Nick, and pay for it. Because even though he knows Cas can take care of himself…

Nick’s a different animal. 

And he, or Lucifer, or both of them, have hurt the two people most important in his life and that makes dealing with Nick his responsibility.

“I’ve got to find him,” Cas says.

Dean sits on the edge of his bed. “You will, Cas, but you gotta make sure he isn’t tracking you, or something.”

“It’d be easier if he was.”

_Don’t_ , Dean prays, and he can almost feel the answering swell of regret and comfort in response.

Neither of them says anything for a minute, or two, and Dean knows he has to pull Cas out of this before he slips too far down to recover during a phone call.

“How’s the truck?”

“Fine,” Cas says. “Thank you.”

Dean smiles. “Like I’d let you or Sam on the road in _anything_ with brakes in that condition.” He couldn’t believe Cas hadn’t come to disaster when he saw the wear after getting the truck up to look underneath.

So from now on, whenever Cas is home, Dean will be giving it the once over, just to make sure.

“Still,” Cas says, and then, “did you find the werewolf cub?”

Dean figures he’s in this for the long haul, and shimmies up the bed until his back is to the headboard. The sheets beneath him will get damp, but there’s another bed in the room so it doesn’t matter.

“Yeah. You remember those two hunters from Oklahoma? The ones who tried to buy you off us?”

The phone crackles, and Dean holds it away from his ear, though he’s sure Cas wouldn’t lose his cool enough to do him any damage.

“Okay, easy,” he soothes, when he thinks it’s safe enough to bring the cell back. He can get Cas’s reaction, though; those fucks had acted like he was some kind of dumb animal, even asked the Winchesters if they’d ever collared him before, and how they kept him in line.

One of them had gone so far as to put his hands on Cas, and Dean doesn’t think the bastard will forget what that cost him.

He’ll be bearing the scar of it for the rest of his days.

“It was them?”

Dean nods, by reflex. “Yeah. Garth and his pack chased ‘em off, though; they’re probably still running.”

Just as long as they don’t run anywhere near a certain bunker in Lebanon, and a certain angel, Dean doesn’t really care about where they stop.

Cas’s next words catch him off guard, and he wonders if the low mood and being reminded of people who see him as little more than a creature, to be bought and sold, collared and controlled, is what prompts it.

“I miss you,” he says.

Dean remembers when Cas didn’t have to, because a moment was all the angel needed to come to him. But he doesn’t dwell on it, in case his thoughts reach Cas somehow; the angel doesn’t need him bringing up painful memories or reminding him of what he’s lost.

“I know,” he says, and grins, and he hears Cas groan, good naturedly, over the line.

“Dean.”

“Talk to me, Cas.” He means it, because maybe he needs it just as much as Cas does, and there might be miles between them, but they can make that distance drop away.

“I want to hold you,” Cas says. “I want to lie with you in my arms, and I want to show you just how much you are loved, Dean. How much I need you.”

Dean shuts his eyes, tries to imagine Cas actually being there, coming over to the bed, slowing stripping off layer after layer, until he settles down over him.

“Cas,” he says, and his voice is dry and rough. He grabs hold of the towel, tugs it from under him and dumps it to the floor.

There’s lube in the drawer; he flicks the lid open and drizzles some onto his dick, pausing only to shut the bottle again and dump it on the bed before he’s sliding his hand teasingly up his length.

“Is that what you wish I was doing for you now, Dean?”

His breath hitches at the realisation that maybe he just showed Cas exactly what he was doing with the hand not holding the phone. 

“Yeah,” he pants. Fuck, he’s such a lightweight; it’s only been three days since he drove off in one direction, and Cas the other, and his dick’s already hard enough to break rock.

“Slow down for me,” Cas says. “Don’t rush it. You deserve to savour this.”

Dean bites his lip, more to stop himself telling Cas if he goes any slower, he’ll miss morning check out, but he follows where directed.

It doesn’t take much to imagine it’s Cas touching him, when that deep voice tells him to squeeze just below the head, and to put the phone on loudspeaker so he has the use of both hands.

To use the other one to stroke his chest, gently roll one nipple between thumb and forefinger, then the other.

And then he reaches down and cups his balls, uses just enough pressure that he knows he isn’t going to last much longer like this.

He keeps going, though, letting Cas direct this, and maybe the angel isn’t in the room, but he’s doing so fucking brilliantly that Dean comes sharp and hard and fast, body tensing up with the force of his release, and a cry bursting out of him that has somebody pounding on the wall behind him.

He vaguely hears Cas hushing him, small wordless sounds of comfort, and then Cas telling him again that he misses him, needs him, loves him.

Dean says as much back and more, even if his words aren’t the same, and then, after bidding his angel good night, he climbs into the other bed, tugs the sheets over himself, and falls into a sated, comforting, sleep.


End file.
